Try some thrift chic at Sona fashion week
We all know what the true state of the nation is, so let’s eschew the usual OTT outfits on Thursday
● Dear politicos, rabble-rousers and overstaying officeholders who are preparing to walk the state of the nation address
(Sona) red carpet on Thursday: you need to read the room.
The fashion police have called to say that your predilection for strutting outside parliament’s steps in sparkly glad rags and fancy socks that cost more than the basic income grant is a wee bit tone deaf.
So it’s time to cut out the catwalk distractions and dress like you mean business.
You see — fashion isn’t static, it’ sa constant loop in a quest to mirror the zeitgeist, and right now it is no accident that the 1% have mothballed their fur-trimmed Gucci slippers.
Last year they called it “stealth wealth” while this year the buzz is “quiet luxury”. Think of it as the sartorial equivalent of a Swiss deposit box (or stuffing the couch with dollar bills).
So showing off is out of vogue — consider the optics as we enter election season.
Yes, I confess that I was once one of those egging you on to twirl for the cameras; however that is sooo last season.
Fashion right now is having a 1990s moment, and boy don’t we all wish we could draw a bit of that new democracy nostalgia? Like we’re all on helium, ripped by Nelson Mandela’s quips and everyone from the Spice Girls to Naomi and Princess Di was dropping by for a visit.
Back then, the opening of parliament, the pomp and ceremony, was a shiny new thing.
Madiba said it best during his first Sona when he spoke about it being the time “to honour the memory of all the sons, daughters, the mothers, the fathers, the youth and the children who, by their thoughts and deeds, gave us the right to assert with pride that we are South Africans, that we are Africans and that we are citizens of the world”.
The main man was kitted out like a banker in a dark pinstripe suit and a serious tie while the rest of the folk in parliament were suitably dressed for the Mzansi board meeting.
As the silk, Nehru-collar, patterned
Madiba shirts came out more often (and “traditional” joined “black tie” as the dress code for top-notch events), the wardrobe choices at subsequent Sonas followed suit.
Afro-optimism reached its zenith during the Mbeki years — with fashion on the Sona red carpet veering from chic and understated to such labels du jour as
Stoned Cherrie, Bongiwe Walaza and Sun Goddess.
No surprise because the economy was humming along, and as Mbeki pointed out in his 2000 address to parliament: “Because of the sound management of our financial system, a major international ratings agency ranked South Africa … in the same bracket with countries such as Austria, Finland, Hong Kong, New Zealand, Norway, Singapore and Spain.”
Let’s skip past the caretaker presidency of Kgalema Motlanthe (who remains the closest we had to Madiba in terms of statesmanship and style) and on to the Zuma era.
Which heralded our years of peak Sona fashion decadence. Think about it — Msholozi knew we needed a distraction, and what better way to whip up a crowd. Breaking with tradition, 2010 marked the first time the Sona address moved from a daytime event to an evening one — and, no surprise, public interest soared (according to the Government Communication & Information System, TV viewership for Sona doubled).
And when there’s more eyeballs, there’s more incentive for attendees to perform — and boy did they ever.
Who can forget the loved-up Norma and Malusi Gigaba in their Oscar-worthy ensemble (she in dreamy off-white lace gown, he in hue-matching tie to finish off his sleek navy suit), which would lead to many “aha” moments as evidence was led at the Zondo commission.
And if Lady Liberty wore yellow, I would wager she’d be a shoo-in for Thuli Madonsela in the long Gert-Johan Coetzee gown with train at Sona 2016.
However, fashion is cyclical, and the sartorial mood turned after Sona 2018.
That was the year of President Cyril Ramaphosa’s maiden Sona and the red carpet glowed like the dawn of a new golden era (witness the shimmering fairy-tale gown that Thembeka Ngcobo wore as she accompanied her hubby-in-a-hat, Bheki Cele).
However, all that glitters isn’t always gold, and things haven’t been the same since. The pall seemed to cross party lines — alas, John Steenhuisen is no fashion plate.
Yes, the event is the opportunity for minor MPs to stand out by frocking-up (Bloem and Kimberley folk, we see you!), it shows us a human side to our public servants and it’s a reminder that a questionable fashion sense is universal.
However, as the price of eggs makes a staple a luxury, and we navigate at night with the light of our mobile phones, as the ports and rail networks stutter and yet another recession looms, a parliamentary catwalk is no longer easy to stomach. Especially when you wonder if it’s just an extravagant ruse cooked up by those failing at the job or caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
It’s too late to stop the show on Thursday — but not too late to put away the Swarovskis, imported silks and Italian wool.
I’m not advocating for an event that is as gloomy as the times. But it’s time to rethink the wardrobes — and the EFF’s approach of showing up in overalls isn’t a bad option.
This year there is also a renewed call for parliamentarians to follow our House of Monatic-supporting president by wearing their proudly South African support on their sleeves (lifestyle auditors should keep an eye on the watches that peek from under those sleeves).
Then there’s the eco example of Michelle Obama and Meghan Markle, who recycle previous red carpet looks. And, considering clothing has become the second-biggest contributor to landfill in the world today, this could offer a PR opportunity for our local pols. What better way to claim you’re helping to clean up the Mzansi dump while looking good in the process …